


Dictionary Short Fics (Harry/Lucius)

by GMTH



Category: Harry Potter - J.K. Rowling
Genre: Bloodplay, Bondage, Breathplay, Challenge Response, Force Choking, Imprisonment, Parent/Child Incest, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Short, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2003-03-14
Updated: 2003-04-20
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:24:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8034787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GMTH/pseuds/GMTH
Summary: A series of short fics written for the Beloved Enemies mailing list Dictionary Drabbles challenge. All Harry Potter/ Lucius Malfoy slash. PLEASE NOTE THE TAGS.





	1. Dictionary Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's notes:** This is a series of four short fics, each one 500 words in length written for the Beloved Enemies mailing list Dictionary Drabbles challenge (yes, I know a drabble is only 100 words; sorry drabble purists, you just have to deal with it). Each fic is based on a different theme word, which is defined at the beginning of the fic. 
> 
> PLEASE NOTE THE TAGS. These may be potentially triggering. Do not read any further if there is material here which may be a problem for you. You've been warned!

Title: What Gets Broken  
Rating: NC-17  
Theme word: "Contumacy," meaning "obstinate or contemptuous resistance to authority; stubborn rebelliousness." 

**WHAT GETS BROKEN**

Severus warned me you would be defiant. He said that's just the way you are. 

It isn't difficult to understand why. Everyone from Dumbledore to Fudge to the bloody house elves has coddled you from the first moment you showed your scar in our world, and you became used to having your way. Well, that loving world you knew so well is gone now. I helped rip it to shreds and now I own it, just as I own you. And I will not allow you to be defiant. 

The first night you were brought to my bed, you fought like an animal. You kicked. You flailed. You tried to scratch my eyes out. And so I restrained you. You were a beautiful sight, standing there with your wrists bound tightly behind your back, a magical noose of thick, scratchy rope tight around your neck. The rope was just long enough to allow you to stand on tiptoe and I kept you that way for hours, until your body was slick with sweat and your calves quivered from the strain of keeping your airway open. 

When I graciously gave you some relief by hoisting you upwards and wrapping your legs around my torso, burying my cock deep in your arse, I believed I had conquered you. It was a glorious feeling to plunder your taut, shivering body, to watch and feel as your chest heaved frantically with the effort of drawing breath after unrestricted breath. I released you after I came and you collapsed in a heap on the floor, dripping with perspiration and semen, well and truly broken. 

Or so I thought. 

When you were brought to me the second time, your neck still bruised and raw from the savage kiss of the rope, you wisely did not struggle. I think you would have liked to try, but a single glance at the noose still dangling from the ceiling rafters made you realize your place. As a reward for your show of obedience, this time I tied you to the bed. 

But you had no appreciation for my kindness. When I touched you, languidly stroking my hand down the center of your chest, you flinched and hissed at me to leave you the fuck alone. When I tried to kiss you, you bit my lip so hard I withdrew tasting my own blood. And so I silenced you with a charm, forcing your teeth apart with a ring gag. The feel of your tongue working spasmodically against the underside of my cock as I slipped it between your stretched lips was astonishing. The uncontrolled clenching of the muscles in the back of your throat as you tried to vomit me out stroked me to the most intense climax of my life. 

Tonight I will have you brought to me again. I'm already hard in anticipation of taming you once more. After all, despite my efforts, I expect you will continue to be defiant. It's just the way you are. 

* * *

Title: Alone With the Dark  
Rating: R  
Theme word: "Oubliette," meaning "a dungeon with an opening only at the top." Word count: 500 

**ALONE WITH THE DARK**

Harry hardly ever opened his eyes anymore. 

Why bother, when the only thing he could see were the thin bars of light outlining the trap door far above his head? 

He had no idea where he was, or how he got there. The last thing he remembered was casting the curse that killed Voldemort, and then the world faded into darkness. 

Total, absolute darkness. 

At first, he passed the time exploring his surroundings, looking for a way out. His wand was gone, but it hardly mattered. The room was blanketed in wards that prevented him from using any magic. 

When it became clear there was no escape, he began yelling for help, screaming for hours until his throat was raw and his voice cracked and died away. No one came, and eventually he fell into a silence as impenetrable as the dark. 

__*

He slept. There was nothing else to do. 

One day when he awoke, there was a presence nearby. He heard the whisper of someone breathing, a sound so loud in the stillness of his prison that it jarred him from a sound sleep as effectively as an alarm clock. 

"Who's there?" he asked, his voice rusty from disuse. 

The Presence did not answer. 

"Who are you?" he demanded again, louder. 

"I am the new Dark Lord," the Presence said. 

A sliver of fear stabbed Harry's heart. "What do you want?" 

"I want you to join me." 

"Never!" Harry said. 

"You _will_ join me," the voice assured him. "When you are ready." And then the Presence was gone. 

"Never," Harry whispered. 

And he meant it. The Dark was worse than the dark. 

__*

An eternity passed, and the solitude became unbearable. He ached to hear the sound of another voice, to feel the touch of another hand. He began screaming again, throwing himself against the wards in his desperation, hoping he would die in the process and escape from hell that way. This kind of life wasn't worth living. 

It was hopeless. Someone was keeping him alive. After a while, it was no longer important who that Someone was. 

__*

He dreamed someone was sitting beside him on his cot, stroking his hair, speaking words of comfort in a low voice. It felt so _real_ that he arched into the touch, nearly crying with relief. 

"Join me," the dream voice said. 

"No. Never." 

"When you are ready, you will." 

__*

He slept more than ever now, hoping the dream would return. It always did, and it was the sweetest thing he had ever known. One night the voice was muted as the speaker's mouth ghosted its way down his abdomen and swallowed his cock. He awakened as the orgasm ripped through him, clutching handfuls of silky hair in each fist. 

Not a dream. Reality. 

"Are you ready to join me?" the voice asked once more, just before salty sweet lips pressed against his own. 

"Yes," Harry whispered into the kiss. 

And he meant it. The dark was worse than the Dark. 

* * *

Title: Secret Places  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: Non-con. Character death. Sentence fragments. Theme word: "Relinquish," meaning "to give over possession or control of." Word count: 500 

**SECRET PLACES**

There are places in Harry's head no one else can reach. 

Some of these places are filled with happy voices and the memory of friends. Ron. Hermione. Their adventures together at Hogwarts. He retreats to these places every time Lucius fucks him. The echo of Ron's laughter drowns out the awful sounds of Lucius's harsh groans. The warmth of his friends' love helps melt away the coldness of the act as Lucius strokes forcefully in and out of Harry's slick passage. 

Others of these places are brimming with recollections of the only one he has ever loved. Long, potion-stained fingers gently brushing his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. A sneering slash of a mouth softening in reverence as the lips caress Harry's tightened nipples or stretch around his swollen cock. These are the places he visits when he wants to remember that sex didn't always hurt, wasn't always just another means of humiliating him. 

But he doesn't go there often. The memories hurt too much. And he once made the mistake of thinking about the feel of Severus deep inside him while he was with Lucius, and his body responded as though it actually was Severus moving above him. When Harry's orgasm splattered between their bodies, Lucius looked down on him with a cold glint of triumph in his eyes. 

"I knew you loved it," the older man gloated and for weeks afterward he fucked Harry even harder, trying to elicit that response again. But Harry had learned his lesson. It was never repeated. 

And there are other places too, dark places filled with reminders of those lost in the war. Sirius on his back in the snow, his hair matted with blood. Hagrid lying face down in the lake, his body gently buffeted back and forth by the rippling current. And Severus... Severus... dying with his eyes open, focused on Harry as he took his last breath. This is where he goes when he needs to hate, which is more often than he would have ever thought possible. For it is only the hatred that keeps him alive, reminding him there is still a world outside these walls. A world that may yet be saved if he can just keep his wits about him long enough to escape. 

Lucius thinks he has Harry under complete control. "I own you," he hisses as he cants his hips upwards, plunging yet deeper into the unresisting body beneath him. He likes to fuck Harry on his back so he can look down upon the glassy-eyed expression that he believes confirms the younger man's abject obedience more firmly than words ever could. 

But Lucius doesn't realize that all he truly owns in an empty shell. He can touch Harry's body, abuse it for his twisted pleasure, but he can never touch the secret places in Harry's mind. Harry may have given up control of his body, but he refuses to relinquish control of his thoughts. 

They are only thing keeping him free. 

* * *

Title: We'll Always Have Stockholm  
Rating: R  
Theme word: "Ameliorate," meaning "to make better or more tolerable." Word count: 500 

**WE'LL ALWAYS HAVE STOCKHOLM**

Harry tensed in his restraints as McNair raised the lash above his head. He barely had time to register the sound of it whistling through the air before it burned across the bare skin between his shoulder blades, tearing an agonized scream from his throat. He'd lost count of how many times it had landed in the same spot. McNair was nothing if not skilled with the whip. 

"Stop!" a voice commanded sharply as McNair raised his arm once more. Harry nearly sobbed with relief when Lucius strode into the room. It was over. He'd survived it once again. 

"Leave us," Lucius ordered the circle of Death Eaters. They complied immediately. 

"I'm sorry I wasn't here to stop them," Lucius said quietly, murmuring the spell to release Harry from his bonds. He caught the younger man as he fell forward and Apparated them both upstairs to his chambers. 

"How long has it been since you've eaten?" Lucius asked after he'd healed the wounds on Harry's back. Another set of scars added to the multitude already criss-crossing his flesh. 

"I don't know," Harry croaked. "Since before you left. How long were you gone this time?" 

"Three days," Lucius said, summoning a platter of food. He fed Harry with his fingers, offering him tiny bites so Harry's cramping stomach wouldn't reject the badly needed nourishment. When Harry finished eating, Lucius gathered him in his arms and carried him to the bathroom, where a warm bath had been drawn. He settled Harry in the water and gently scrubbed away the layers of grime and sweat three days of neglect had left on him. 

"Thank you, Lucius," Harry said softly, looking up at his savior with love in his eyes. 

Later, when they lay together in bed, Harry wrapped his legs around Lucius's waist and shouted the older man's name as he came. 

____

Rough hands shook him awake, and Harry opened his eyes to see Severus Snape standing over him. 

"Wake up, Potter," Snape hissed. "Hurry. I've got to get you out of here before Lucius finds me." 

"What are you doing here?" 

"I've been looking for you for months. It never occurred to me that he would bring you here. Get up. Quickly! I've come to take you home." 

Harry sat up. "Home?" he said numbly, then shook his head. "No. I don't want to go. I want to stay here." 

Snape reared back as though he had been struck. "With Lucius? My gods, boy! Why?" 

"I... I love him," Harry replied. "Whenever they hurt me, he makes them stop. Whenever they starve me, he makes sure I'm fed and bathed and... he takes care of me." 

"Potter, this is Malfoy Manor. Do you think they would be doing all these things to you without Lucius's knowledge? He's the one who has been ordering them to beat you and starve you all along!" 

Harry looked up at Snape then, his eyes so dead that Snape recoiled at the sight. 

"I know," Harry whispered. 


	2. Bad Karma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a departure from my usual HP/LM stuff. The theme word this time was "karma."

BAD KARMA

"Master Draco is waiting for you in the library, Master Harry, sir."

Harry glanced up at the house elf bobbing nervously in his bedroom doorway. "I'll be down momentarily, Lucky," he said, turning back to the mirror to finish buttoning his shirt. The elf bowed and scurried off. 

Harry took his time choosing a vest and tie. After so many years of being forbidden to wear any clothing at all, he now took great pleasure in the mechanics of getting dressed. Besides, it wouldn't hurt Draco to wait for a change. 

When he was satisfactorily attired, he began the long walk from the bedroom level of Malfoy Manor down to the library. He unconsciously soothed himself by running one hand repeatedly down the middle of his chest as he walked, a nervous habit he had acquired after watching Lucius do it for so many years. He hated these monthly meetings with Draco.

The Manor belonged to Harry now, a gift from the Ministry of Magic after Lucius had been killed by Aurors five years earlier. A search of the house after its owner's death had revealed a startling secret - a battered, emaciated Harry lying chained to a bed in a locked room. "We thought you were dead," a dazed Arthur Weasley explained when Harry asked why no one had come looking for him sooner. "Killed in the war." Arthur was Minister of Magic by then, and he decided to give Harry the Manor - as well as the rest of Lucius's assets - as recompense for the years he had lost to Lucius's abuse. "It's not enough," Arthur acknowledged sadly, "but it's the best we can do." 

Draco had fought like a madman to get his family's property back, of course, but in the end he had lost. Now he was forced to live on the small monthly allowance Harry had agreed to provide him in a moment of kindness he now regretted. But having suffered such misery for so long, Harry found he couldn't bear the idea of anyone else suffering. 

Not even Draco. 

Lucky was dangling in mid-air when Harry stepped into the library, his face twisted with fear. "Let him down, Draco," Harry sighed, and a moment later the elf fell, squealing loudly, to the hard marble floor.

"Damn elf was touching Father's cane," Draco growled as the elf painfully regained his feet. The ebony and silver cane was the only one of Lucius's belongings Harry had allowed Draco to keep. "Where did you find this miserable creature anyway, Potter? He wasn't here when I lived here." 

"No," Harry said, signing the Gringott's voucher that would allow Draco to make his monthly withdrawal. "I don't know where he came from. He showed up here shortly after your father died."

"I would advise you to teach him his place, Potter," Draco snapped, snatching the voucher from Harry's hand. "Pathetic little wretch."

"Show Master Draco to the door, Lucky," Harry said, cutting Draco off before he could wind himself up into a full-blown rant. 

"Don't bother," Draco replied nastily. "I grew up here. I know the way." He gave Lucky a vicious kick on his way past, then swept out of the library with a swish of his shabby robes. 

Harry sighed again. "All right, Lucky, get back to work cleaning out the fireplaces, please," he said. 

"Yes, Master Harry, sir," Lucky squeaked, unconsciously running one hand down the middle of his chest as he scampered away.


	3. Lust for Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theme word for this one is "rudiment." 
> 
> A few notes: first, I took some liberties with movie canon and had Lucius actually touch Harry in the bookshop scene. Also, the warnings for this piece contain spoilers so I put them at the end. If you're at all familiar with my writing you'll know it can be on the squicky side sometimes, so if you are easily squicked you might want to scroll down and read them first.

LUST FOR POWER

It is well past midnight when the suffocating weight of my thoughts finally drives me out of my bed.

_I wish I had never touched him. I should have known it would lead to this._

His room is dark and still, so quiet the whisper of his breathing roars in my ears. The fire has long since died to a few glowing embers, and the cool air rushes past me as I step through the doorway, wrapping long tendrils around my fevered skin. 

_I had been curious about him for years, ever since he was an infant and vanquished my Lord. When I saw him in the bookshop that morning, I was unable to resist the urge to pull him close and examine the mark my Master's last ill-fated act had left upon his forehead._

"Lumos," I murmur, holding my wand above my head as I cross the room to his bedside. He is a deep sleeper and there is no need for stealth, but force of habit impels me to move cautiously so he does not sense my approach. 

_I could feel it the instant my thumb brushed across the raised, white scar -- power. Vast, untapped power radiating from him so strongly that even that simple touch stirred my long dormant Mark to life. It was at the most rudimentary level, of course, crude and unformed, but there was no doubt the potential for greatness was within him._

He does not stir when I sit on the edge of his bed, tucking my wand into a crack in the carving on the headboard. The light throws his handsome face into sharp relief against the surrounding darkness, casting shadows on the pillowcase. 

_It was electrifying. Even after he pulled away I could feel his power tugging at me, swirling through my body like a cyclone, ravaging me like a wild beast. My head buzzed madly for days afterwards._

Carefully, I peel back the duvet to reveal his nude body, pale and beautiful against the dark sheets. 

_All my life I have coveted power, and here, in this unworthy child, was more power than I could ever hope to know. I burned for it. I ached to shape it and manipulate it, to bleed it from him and drown in it myself._

I kneel on the bed between his knees, wrapping his limp legs around my waist. Another softly-spoken spell to lubricate my aching erection and I position myself at the tight entrance to his body. 

_It was torture knowing it was out there and I could never have it._

I thrust my hips forward sharply, seeking relief from my frustration in the only way I know how. His eyes fly open, his back arching in surprise as he is ripped from deep slumber and plunged into intense pain. His glazed eyes focus on me as he begins struggling weakly, his limbs still heavy with sleep. 

"No, Father," he moans, pushing feebly against my chest as I stab into him. "Not again... Please..."

_Yes, that's it, Harry. Beg me. Beg me so I can have some tiny measure of control over what will never be mine._

A small voice in my head screams that this isn't right, this isn't Harry Potter writhing beneath me, but it is easily quieted. I jerk my wand from its perch in the headboard and use it to cut a bloody lightning bolt on my son's forehead. 

There. Now the illusion is complete. And I know that when I am finished, my "Harry" will lie sobbing and broken, punished once more for the crime of keeping me from what I want most in all the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Non-con, incest, mention of bloodplay


	4. Exception to the Rule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The theme word for this one is "exempt."

EXCEPTION TO THE RULE

 

"No, my Lord," Lucius said, and Harry felt the first stirrings of hope he'd had in a very long time. 

The stone floor was hard beneath his bare knees and he shifted uncomfortably, hardly enough to be noticed, though of course Lucius noticed it. The hand holding the end of his leash twitched just enough to provide a subtle warning, and the other hand dropped onto his head to stroke his hair absentmindedly. 

"No?" Voldemort's voice was a dangerous whisper. Harry dared not look up, but from the corner of his eye he could see the Dark Lord had ceased pacing and was now facing Lucius straight on. "Do you mean no as in you disagree?" Voldemort hissed. The black boots drifted closer. 

The hand in his hair continued its gentle caresses, an obscene parody of the manner in which Lucius usually touched him, and Harry closed his eyes. "I mean no as in I refuse, my Lord," Lucius said smoothly. "I consider it an unnecessarily foolish risk, now that we have finally captured Hogwarts." 

This was it, then. The world would end soon in a flash of green light. Just the week before, Harry had been kneeling in this very spot when Voldemort had killed both Macnair and his slave for a far more minor transgression. What remained of their bodies still hung on spikes just outside the Forbidden Forest, a constant reminder to the castle's inhabitants that Voldemort's word was law.

Harry's heart leapt. He would finally be free. He slitted his eyes open to look at the angry, red manacle burns encircling his wrists. No more. No more cringing at the sound of the lash whistling above his head. No more frantic gasping for breath as Lucius wrenched his head out of the tub of water, then plunged it back in again as his cock tore Harry open. No more hot pokers or painfully large gags that stretched his jaws until they felt they would break. He would see his parents again, perhaps walk with Dumbledore and kiss his beloved Severus. How long he had prayed for death, and now Lucius, who had never willingly done anything to make his life easier, had provided the means for his escape from hell.

Without raising his head, he lifted the hem of Lucius's robe to his lips and kissed it reverently, praying Voldemort would act quickly. 

But the silence only stretched on as the Dark Lord drew nearer. Harry risked a look upwards, and the spark of joy that had sustained him sputtered and died when he saw the grim, twisted smile on Voldemort's face. 

"Only you, Lucius," Voldemort said, raising one scaly finger to stroke the pale cheek. "Only you could disobey me thus and live to tell the tale." 

"My Lord," Lucius acknowledged humbly. 

"Go."

A sharp tug on his leash, and Harry rose sullenly. The stones were cold beneath his feet, but he barely felt them for the stunning ache of being condemned to life.


End file.
